


Made Up Of  Broken Parts, Oh Baby, I Was Broken From The Start

by orphan_account



Series: The Proud And Emotional [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz - Fandom, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: (wow i never thought I'd tag that), Angst, BET YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT!, Blowjobs, Cheating(NOT BETWEEN THE MAIN ROMANTIC COUPLE), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Romance, Sexy Naked Times, Short Fics, Triggers, also Patrick has eyes, and a mouth, gotta love it, ha, lots of "poor pete" moments, miscommiunations, moral injustice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peterick(Pete x Patrick) Short fics.<br/>Some will be continual.<br/>Third person writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red And Black And Skeletal Pale. Oh Pin Me Up. Use A Rusted Nail.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letssendacountrysomecupcakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letssendacountrysomecupcakes/gifts).



> My fics will suck for awhile as I'm basically using them as my emotional vents since I don't actually know how to talk about this stuff with me as the star istead of the slightly demented supporting cast. Forgive my endless torture to these dudes. I actually love te fuck outa them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not now, not ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of feel bad for even posting this shit and the only I am is because I guess sometimes being sad or mad is good for the soul. Its a public service. And Im a jackass.

There was something endlessly captivating about how he looked in the light. How, even though Patrick barely ever wore makeup, the black rims around his eyes made him look sexy, fucking dangerious and so, so unreachable. Like the boy Pete had loved, cooed over, licked and prodded had finally matured into some dark, beautiful monster. Fuck, if Patrick was borderline satanic, the world needed more satanists.  
Whose idea the suit was, red and gleaming and fucking evil, was a genius. And if it was Patrick's idea to dress up in devil red and black and sing about mistakes Pete may or may not be the inspiration of, more power to him. God only knew he deserved it after the shit fest he'd been dragged through, sloppy signs calling it a childhood.  
It was hard, unbelievably, to breathe when that boy, that boy who went through so much, finally opened his month and belted bitter words out at Pete but, no, Patrick didn't see him there in the crowd. Nor would he. Pete won't say a word to his golden boy. Not now. Not ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lovw it when random people know the lyrics to my songs. It makes me feel like im getting somewhere, even if thats a lie.


	2. He Bumped His Head, He Might Be Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I, at least, try to fit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On my first day of highschool, some kid stole my book bag. In it I had(stupidly, I admit) years worth of poetry, chords and lyrics I wanted to use. When I found it outside in a puddle of mud, I had a break down and was promptly the laughing stock of the school. The second time it happened he hit me with my new bag, which, btw, ow books, and i kicked him in the shin in self defence and i was lectured by a local police officer that fighting like that would get me no where and the kid walked off happy as can be with a fucking star for anti-bullying. And my therapist keeps asking me why im so bitter about society.

Pete wasn't bitter. He wasn't pissy or mad. He was a tiny bit annoyed, maybe, about the unfairness of the world.   
Some kids got a plastic bag of hand-me-downs for christmas, others got shiny new bikes.   
That was how it worked. How it always had,probably always will.  
Pete didn't kid himself. He knew he got the better end of the stick when it came to his life. Accepting and kind parents, food on his plate every night, new shiny toys on his birthdays and christmas morning.  
But it wasn't fair. Because he saw what that little boy with the fluff of red hair had gotten that one year on christmas. He didn't know if it was his only gift. Didn't know if he had more in his house. But when he saw the kid run outside with an old stuffed puppy tucked under his arm and a newer hot pink beanie tugged over his hair, Pete felt bitter. He had gotten a new game system, a bass guitar, new cloths and all of this wonderful stuff but that little boy didn't get any of that.   
Pete wasn't upset at anyone to be honest. No. He was mostly upset about society, poverty. God was the one mostly being cursed out. Fuck world peace, starvation, poor little red headed boys with big grins who deserved the world but only got old hand-me-downs.   
Pete walked across the street, dropped to his knees and said, no lack of confidence,"Hell, I'm Pete and I am going to give you the world plus some."  
The kid looked confused but he stuck out a tiny, cold hand, shook Pete's and said, "I'm Patrick."  
Pete was only thirteen years old but he knew, somewhere deep deep down that he had set a goal he would keep. Never stopping until Patrick, cute smily Patrick, had everything he needed plus some. Pete would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring. He bumped his head, he might be dead, we'll just see if he wakes up in the morning"  
> I used to giggle and sing that song when it rained until I was 10. I guess I never did learn what death was until I saw it. Also I have no idea what the connection was. Just wrote this and the song came to my head. PS: none of these will connect probably unless you see Pt1 or Pt2 sooo yeah


	3. I Irrationally Want Flowers Instead Of Half-Assed Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actually, it's quite rational. I want flowers because at least they have meaning unlike your words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wonder why I miss people who hurt me. All the guys who cheated on me(9 of 10), all the girls who broke me down and ripped me apart. Then I realize life was so mych easier when i had them to hurt me so i didn't have to hurt myself. Sick right?

Pete was a car crash. A domino effect in action from the moment he breathed in.  
He hadn't noticed really for years. Didn't see lives falling apart because of him. He smiled, fuck around with a band or two(hundred), slept around and such. He didn't see the disappointed looks his best friend shot at him or the slow slide of said best friend out of his life.   
Patrick was naturally a silent guy. Only speaking up when he had to, Pete understood this. In order to see a problem with Patrick, you had to be looking since Patrick wouldn't to tell.   
Pete didn't notice when the brightness in Patrick's eyes started fading. One hook up at a time, a new crack would show. But Pete wasn't looking. And Patrick slipped away. Finally finished with Pete's shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh whhhhoooooops. Forgot to beg for comments and stuff. Also, FYI, te titles are either my own words or old childhood rhymes.... so if they're familiar or not, thats why.


	4. You Call Me Broken Record, But Secretly I'm Your Theme Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's the official meaning of "Slut" can someone comment?

Ringing Patrick's doorbell has never come easy to Pete. Throwing pebbles up at his window or claiming the back fence and tapping his fingers on the sliding glass door. That was more natural to him. When he stood there, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, being stared down by Patrica Stump, he decided doorbells are for people way more tough then him. Eye contact and explainations just felt wrong without Patrick's eye rolls or death glare.   
Parents normally didn't like Pete, flat-ironed hair and tattoos. He could admit he wasn't very likable. But how could he explain to an overprotective mother that he really wasn't a bad dude and just wanted to take his adorable sixteen year old boyfriend out to a diner for a real date. He couldn't.  
"Can I help you?" Patrica asked slowly, her hand gripping the door like Pete could lunge at her at any second.  
"Is, uh... Is Patrick home?" Pete stuttered.   
The question remained how any could distrust Pete as much as they do.  
"There's no one here by that name." Patrica fuck Stump lied to his face. Wow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo my sister is dating my bestfriend and they were fighting. Mostly about him becoming my bestfriend after three months of them dating. So, he's telling me how irrational she's being since I'm too fucked up to be dating anyone right now and then it happened. She(my baby sister) fired off a text and her boyfriend(my best friend) took a picture of it.   
> "Im trying to protect you, ty. shes bad news. a lying bitch. i dont want her to steal you away and use you like she always does"  
> And holy fucking shit, Ow my heart. And now Tyler is seriously debating leaving my sister because shes apparently(his words)"a sadistic little bitch" and my world crumbles once again. Fuck. Ow my heeeaaart.


	5. Oh, So You Ship Me Off To God-Knows-Where And Pray I'll Be Safer There?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your ego, ego, got me so low, so low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It fucking sucks how much i hate being alone but, guys, its new fucking york city! SVA! MOTHER FUCKERS, HEEERE I COME!

The roads were slick with ice and water that still came pouring down. Saying it was cold was an understatement. Fucking hell, it was freezing, technically below freezing. The coffees Pete gripped probably weren't hot anymore levels of earth shattering cold. Pete's coffee, hot like only fucking Starbucks can get it, was probably ice cold. But Pete couldn't feel if that was true since his bare hands had gone numb somewhere between his house and starbucks, and now he walked carefully down the sidewalk to Patrick's house. See, it had been Pete's plan to bring Patrick coffee and possibly use said coffee to convince Patrick to let Pete stay over that night. Pete hated storms. He just fucking hated them. But he might actually freeze before he gets to Patrick and that, that wasn't fair! That was lame and uncool no matter how technically cool it was.   
Maybe he'd slip and break his neck. At least that way it'd be fast. Or maybe it'd be like a dramatic movie scene, you know the type, where Pete would make it to Patrick just in time to fall down and die in his arms. Then he'd die seeing Patrick and that sounded a little better.   
Oh look, I'm not dead, he thought and knocked on Patrick's door. So much for shakespear death scenes.  
And besides, Pete thought as Patrick opened the door and smiled at him, being alive was just better. What, with Patrick and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if I'm second guessing myself, only we have to know that.


	6. Colored Like Clouds, In Mocking Shades Of Gold And Gray, And It Stuck In Me Like Unruly Seas.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't speak, won't say a word, a tower falling out of worlds, shocked expressions, you fucking fools. I could have told but no, "gag the girl!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone should finish these if they wanted because I never will. Random inspiration often dies hard.

"You know the butterfly effect...the idea that a butterfly flapping it's pretty little wings in California could cause, like, an earthquake in Japan?" Patrick said slowly, his hands clutched together in his lap.   
Pete nodded.  
"It's kind of like that. Someone's off hand comment could, like, get a fifteen year old to want to, say, uh, be in a band, sing and such, when that fifteen year old wouldn't have even dreamed of it before."  
"Oh so...Are you saying I altered you're future by saying you had a golden voice?" Pete asked, frowning a little.  
"Well, uh..." Patrick was adorable. "I guess but that's not why I brought it up."  
Pete gestured for Patrick to continue when it looked like he might not.  
"You made me want things I, you know, didn't think about..." Patrick blushed. "Not made, to be honest, just... awoken me to the idea of, like, being attracted to guys..."  
"Oh my god." Pete gushed adoringly. "Are you finally coming out? Fuck, kid, Andy owes me fifty bucks."  
"Asshole." Patrick sighed but did not deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call me a quiter. Life's too hard for this bitch.


	7. Static Burn PART ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete just wants Patrick to be happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went to sleep last night feeling like I had forgotten something. Woke up this morning in 2016. O-O  
> Now, regarding the story! Basically a modern day story(EXCET EVERYONE IS SINGLE AND ANNA CAN JUST GO DIE!) but I had to warp the timing of some events to make it all fit right. So yeah be warned about that. Also all trigger warnings apply for mentions of Pete's dark day, Pete's thoughts and Cheetos(fuuucking cheetos man.) and in sorts slight child abandonment(just for a little) and post-pregnantacy depression. I cant write over 350 words.   
> HAPPY 2016!

Holidays.   
Pete never liked them. Though not for a lack of trying. Everything just went wrong last minute. The turkey burned, Pete's parent's flight was canceled, or Ash just wasn't handing over Bronx because she wanted him again this year(and every year in the foreseable future). The fight that ended their marriage was right after Thanksgiving. The breakup of his band was days away from christmas. And new years was just another crazy-party night where his best friend, Patrick, could easily slip back into his alcoholic ways, which Pete prayed never to see happen. Not again.  
Each year posed new and not so exciting ways to fuck something up. Things just rarily went right duringthe last four to three months of the year.  
It was nearing Thanksgiving when the first holiday horror happened.  
Anna, Patrick's girlfriend, was found in, uh, composing poses on Patrick and Pete's couch. And everyone saw it. Joe, Andy, Pete, Fucking Mikey Way. Standing right behind Patrick as he opened the door to the apartment and bam! Face full of naked Anna and some skinny ass, not-so-pretty, coast boy. Anna had barely stopped riding the guy to look over her shoulder in utter horror at being caught.  
Patrick was heartbroken and didn't seem to have the fight in him to scream at her. He had simply tugged his hat low and walked past the scene into his room. He didn't come out for days and Pete called everyone who had planned to spend Thanksgiving with him and told them he wasn't able to come. He went to the store and picked up the tiniest pre-cooked turkey he could find(years of failure had proven Pete no chief) and grabbed two small yams and that was it. He set the yams to cook in tin foil and olive oil before he knocked on Patrick's door for the first time since the day he had his heart broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike holidays. Its weird how they go in my life. Everyone expects me too cook on thankgiving even though I can't even get near raw meat(turkey) and haven't since I was ten. And christmas, everyone gets surprised and all guilt-trippy when I don't get them gifts. I can't even hold a job for more than a week and im living alone with rent AND school. I can't afford gifts and i never have been able to. And new years just sucks because everyone gets drunk and touchy-feely with the small emo girl in the corner(aka me.)


	8. Static Burn PART TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saint or a sinner / I know you'll be a winner  
> Up on the rooftops / Rolling, you can't stop.  
> Drop dead evil / a pinch of way too much.  
> Ruling without a kingdom / King without a throne.  
> I'll see you at the end of this - oh - blood stained road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song quoted in the summery is called "Good Or Bad, I'd Kiss You Either Way" or "Devil In Training" as my old bandmates called it when I first showed it... OH AND SOMEONE SENT ME A UKELELE. I'd be creeped out because no return address and the note was a tiny bit creepy and I hadn't told anyone mine had broken yet so. Creepy BUT SO COOL! If im murdered, at least i'll die happy.

It was a worldwide known fact that waking Patrick Stump before he was ready could often lead to sometimes fatal injuries.   
Pete concluded, three days after one hell off a fucked up breakup after eight months of dating, Patrick might never be ready to wake up and, fatal injuries or not, it was his, Pete's, sollum duty as best friend, roommate and bandmate to provent such a day as Patrick stumbling into Wentz Level depression. Pete had that shit trademarked, Patrick would have to pay up somehow before slipping into that stage of rock and a hard place. So Pete knocked on Patrick's door.   
And the sound was to loud, too echoing even to Pete's slightly less good hearing.   
"What?" He heard Patrick call from inside the room and shrugged. If Patrick was decent, he mused, it wouldn't be anything he hadn't seen before. He pushed open the door and leaned against the frame.  
Patrick was sitting cross-legged on his made bed, headphones halfway off his head and his mac perched in his lap. He wasn't Pete's exact image of hopelessly heartbroken so he smiled.  
"I have all the stuff for a traditional thanksgiving." Pete said, "sweet potatoes and a turkey." He raised a hand when Patrick looked ready to object. "No worries. It's pre-cooked."   
"'m okay in here." Patrick shrugged. "You should eat though."  
"Not alone." Pete shook his head. "Eat with me."  
Patrick sighed and tapped at his laptops mouse pad before clossing the lid and unhooking the headphones from his neck.  
"Yeah, okay." He mumbled and smiled at Pete.   
Pete just wanted Patrick to be happy, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The doctor here is a complete dick and I need new pills for my bipolar shit and he wants to do testing and these mood swings are killng meeeee! I kind of want to die.


	9. My Body's On The Clock, Tick-Tock, Sleepless-O'Clock. Tick-Tock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue eyes, fuckable thighs.  
> (Next part for Static burn will come later. sorry guys.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not one to spew the words repeated so many times but when I cut myself, it was a cry for attention. I don't know how it works for others but for me, i just wanted someone to notice, to just wrap their arms around me and say it'll be okay. My first boyfriend was the first to notice it. Totally bad timing too. He freaked out, told my parents and they never did like me andthat, my friends, is how I first got sent to heritage ment hospital. So far away from any one I knew. They ditched me and didn't bother to call and check if i was okay. I wasn't and I still am not okay. Im not okay.

Patrick had these eyes. Pete could reason that, yes, people often did have eyes. But Patrick's, not quite blue, not quite green, they woke something in Pete. Patrick was pleasent company if Pete were being humble, the fucking best if he weren't(which was often as was). Pete could admit, now, with Patrick gazing up at him, mouth full of Pete's cock, that Patrick's eyes were something of a treasure. Like the pleased little noises Patrick made as he went up and down and up and down were fucking beautiful, like he could get off without a touch just from having a dick, Pete's dick, in his mouth.   
See, Patrick also had a mouth. Pete knew, again, that people tended to have mouths but Patrick's? Patrick's was sinfully perfect, with a voice of a saint. Which were two very different things to be but it was true. No matter how many times Pete will, has(fully intends to somemore) fuck Patrick's mouth he knows he will still think of Patrick as blissfully innocent. An angel sent down from heaven.  
Pete can admit it now, calling out as he comes, that he's stupidly in love with this golden boy. He can admit it now. But as he zips he jeans and fastens his belt, watches Patrick fix his hat and wipe his mouth, he knows he'll never say anything about it, not when rejection is so obvious the outcome of such a sentance as "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed something...  
> PATRICK HAS A MOUTH  
> HOW ABOUT THAT. HA!  
> Fuck I need a girlfriend. Miss ya' Anne. Too much. I'm trying not to miss my latest. She just fucked me up more.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah.... that just happened


End file.
